Anything For You, Scully
by TB's LMC
Summary: Every now and then an ep will inspire me to do a sort of "finish-the-scene" thing, which is what I did with And She Cried. This is the sequel to that story...what happens when Scully and Mulder wake up.
1. Chapter 1

**Spoilers**: _Milagro_, _XFFTF_, and minor for other eps.

**Summary**: Every now and then an ep will inspire me to do a sort of "finish-the-scene" thing, which is what I did with _And She Cried_. This is the sequel to that story...what happens when Scully and Mulder wake up.

**Author's Note**: I hope those of you who asked for a sequel like this. Posted in late April, 1999 to Gossamer. Posted here for the first time.

**ANYTHING FOR YOU, SCULLY**

How could she describe the feeling that swelled within her breast as she awakened in fear, only to realize that there was nothing to be afraid of because he was there with her, protecting her from those who would seek to do her harm? Indeed, were there words in any language on any world that could have given voice to that which she felt as the first rays of sun filtered through her windows?

Dana Scully couldn't think of one.

She yawned as she pried her eyelids open. Having cried for so long the night before, they were puffy and swollen almost shut. _I must look positively gorgeous_, she thought, wiping sleepers from the corners of her eyes.

Her movement awakened her companion. His eyelids fluttered open, vision at first unfocused, as the past day's events came flooding back to him in a torrent of raging anger and fear.

"Scully?"

She lifted her head from his shoulder and looked into his hazel eyes, now glittering with the power of full consciousness behind them. "Hi." she said sheepishly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her perfect mouth.

He was not only happy to see her alive, but happy also that she was in his arms warm, breathing and smiling. He didn't notice her swollen eyelids, didn't notice the red rims around her eyes, didn't notice they were bloodshot. Even if he had, it wouldn't have mattered. His arms had stayed wrapped around her all through the night, and he now used their position to his advantage as he hugged her tightly.

"Scully," he breathed.

She reveled in the feel of waking up with someone close to you, someone who was glad to see you, someone who wanted nothing more than to hold you near to him first thing in the morning. Never had she felt this, never had she experienced morning love. Right now, at this very moment, they were no one and everyone all at once. There were no badges, no guns, no shadow governments, conspiracies or aliens. There was no FBI, no protocol, no heart-stealing figment of a writer's imagination.

All that existed was a man named Fox and a woman named Dana who could not get past the joy of finding themselves together after a most harrowing experience. She brought her arms around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder, her mouth touching the tanned skin between his ear and collarbone. She wasn't doing it on purpose, but it brought a further feeling of closeness, of oneness, and neither wanted it to end.

Of course, Dana knew there was much she needed to say to this man, so many things to tell him, so very much to explain. And, if his behavior yesterday and at this moment were any indication, he might have a thing or two to say to her as well. But not now. Not yet. Nothing that would destroy or detract from this enchanted moment when two souls drank in the comfort given freely by both, when they basked in the glow of an unspoken bond of trust, friendship, forgiveness, caring and above all, love. Many long moments passed in silence as Dana longed to feel comfortably secure, trying fervently to push away the haunting images which insisted upon invading her memory.

"Thank you," she mumbled into his neck.

His voice cracked with emotion as he responded, "Anything for you, Scully."

Once again she lifted her head from his shoulder to meet his gaze. He was silently begging for answers, asking all the questions with his eyes that plagued his heart, wanting to know every detail so that he, in true Mulder fashion, could share every bit of pain she felt. He would not feel justified in comforting her unless he could hurt as much as she had hurt...hurt with her and hurt for her. Mulder was no masochist, but he had an insane desire to feel everything she felt, to discover every tiny thing there was within her, to know what was in her mind and in her heart.

Slowly his hand cupped her face. Their eyes never broke contact. Suddenly, both were hit with a vivid flashback to a time last summer in Mulder's apartment building. In the hallway outside Number 42. Fox's other hand, seemingly of its own volition, cupped the other side of her face as he mimicked the scene his mind replayed for him. Dana's eyes brimmed with pools of tears, much against her own will, as she, too, became lost in the memory of what almost happened...of what should have happened that day.

Once again, the Syndicate had taken something special from her and Mulder. Of course, the fact that the infected bee hadn't fallen away from her clothing as they'd run out of the giant beehive had not been planned by anyone. It had been a stroke of luck for the Consortium, and almost the final moments for Dana Scully. Actually, it had been her death. If Mulder had not rescued her, and if he had not revived her when she stopped breathing in the corridor of the alien vessel, there would have been nothing more for Dana. At least, not on this Earth. Nonetheless, there was no question that the black-lunged bastard and his cronies were at the root of all the evils which plagued Fox Mulder and Dana Scully.

An involuntary shudder rippled through her body. She wondered vaguely if he was going to try and kiss her. To her own surprise, she found herself hoping that he would, but then chastised herself for her own foolishness. There was much for them to do prior to any kisses, or anything further for that matter, and Dana's rational mind knew that. Her body, however, yearned for nothing more than his touch. What to do?

Fox decided that for her. He could read her thoughts, almost as though he were telepathic. Pulling her face to his, placing his lips upon her forehead, letting them linger there long enough to let her know he was acquiescing to that which he knew she felt...that he, too, shared her concerns and trepidation.

She struggled to her feet when at last he released his physical hold on her. But the hold he had on Dana Scully's inner self was one which he did not wish to relinquish, and one which she did not wish to lose. She wanted it there as much as she wanted to take her next breath. She blushed as she pulled her robe tighter around her body, not having noticed until just now that it had

fallen slightly open to reveal the swell of her breasts.

"I'll make coffee," she said softly.

He nodded as he rose to his feet. "Mind if I use your shower?" he asked as he followed her into the kitchen.

"No, of course not. You know where everything is. I'll get some of your clothes and leave them on the counter."

"Okay. Thanks."

He was thanking her? It most definitely should be the other way around. It momentarily struck her as funny that Mulder should have clothes here, but over the years, she'd acquired a few pair of his jeans, several of his t-shirts and sweatshirts, and even a full-blown suit, tie and shoes included. She couldn't remember how any one of the items had come to be in her walk-in closet, but she had washed and neatly folded them all and placed them in their own two cubbyholes. She blushed again as she remembered that she also was in possession of a few pairs of his boxers. As she shuffled back to her bedroom, she let out an involuntary laugh when she thought of the design on one pair...they were lime green, a most disgusting color, with Marvin Martian everywhere in different poses.

She decided to give him those Marvin boxers, pulled out a pair of white socks (there weren't any black ones to be found), black jeans and a black mock turtleneck she'd forgotten was there. She knocked quietly at the bathroom door. She could hear the shower running. Not receiving an answer, Dana pushed the door open as steam came pouring out. She darted in and placed the clothing on the counter, as promised, and darted back out, closing the door tightly behind her.

Thankful that she had two showers and a strong hot water heater, Dana headed for the Master Bathroom. She closed the bedroom door and stood in front of her full-length mirror as her robe slipped from her slim body into a crumpled heap at her feet. At first glance, she could've sworn she saw four fingerprint indentations on her chest, right over the spot where her heart rested beneath her ribcage. However, upon further inspection, she found that image to be only in her mind. She let out a sigh of relief as she picked up her robe and entered the bathroom. She didn't close the door. She knew Mulder wouldn't barge in uninvited and besides, she'd already closed her bedroom door.

Mulder emerged from the shower and toweled his hair dry. As he wiped the water from his body, he saw the Marvin Martian boxers Dana had left for him and laughed out loud. He wondered if she found them as amusing as he did. He pulled all his clothes on, hung up the towel and exited the bathroom. He could hear the faint sounds of her shower running down the hall, so he poured a cup of black coffee and seated himself at her kitchen table. His stomach grumbled, but he refused to eat until he could see her again. He had no right satisfying his own hunger until he knew his Scully had everything she needed.

She luxuriated in letting the scalding hot water pour over her body, allowing it to cleanse both her skin and her spirit. When at last she turned the water off, she felt rejuvenated and ready to face both Mulder and the endless questioning she knew she'd be subjected to by the FBI. Scully barely gave a thought to her clothes. Where normally she was so very picky about the crisp business attire she wore, today she cared not a fig for formality or work suits. No, today she needed to be comfortable. It would be a long day, and an even longer night.

So Dana chose a pair of black jeans, forgetting she'd chosen the same for Mulder. She grabbed a black turtleneck from the back of her closet, forgetting she'd taken out almost the same article of clothing for him. White socks were slipped over her delicate feet, and soon she was ready to face the day.

Very few words were spoken between Mulder and Scully as they drank their coffee and ate their toasted bagels with cream cheese. All too soon their time of solitude and aloneness had to end. They got into her car and rode to FBI Headquarters in silence. Dana was trying to sort out her thoughts and put everything in logical order, so that she could recall as many details for Skinner as possible. She was grateful it would be he who took her statement. She knew, as did Mulder, that Assistant Director Walter Skinner would have it no other way.

For his part, Mulder couldn't help but be very worried about his partner. He'd hoped for the chance to hear everything from her without others present, but in a way he understood her reluctance to rehash the events twice unnecessarily. He would be there when she gave her statement to their superior...there wasn't even a thought given to that fact. It was implied. They were always there for each other. Ever since the Antarctica incident, they hadn't allowed anyone to separate them in trying situations, and this would be no different. FBI regulations be damned.

Scully would tell her story to Skinner, with Kimberly taking detailed notes, while Mulder sat nearby, offering his silent support as well as listening intently to every word that came from her mouth. If he knew his Scully...and indeed he did...she would not break down today. If there were to be more tears shed, it would be done privately. He hoped he would be there for that as well. He didn't want her going through one single step of this healing process alone. This time he wasn't just going to give her a hug and a sympathetic look and then walk away to continue chasing his little green men. Fox Mulder had made the startling discovery sometime between last night and this morning that for once in his life there was someone who was far more important to him than what he now laughingly called his "Quest".

They arrived at the J. Edgar Hoover building. He parked the car in the garage. Silently they walked shoulder-to-shoulder to the elevator and entered. It rose and rose, finally coming to a stop. Mulder looked down at Scully, Scully looked up at Mulder. Her mouth was set in a straight line in grim determination. His somber look told her that he knew she could do it. The doors hissed open and they purposefully strode as one into the outer office of the Assistant Director, where Kimberly rose to her feet to greet them, a sad smile on her face.

"Special Agent Mulder, Special Agent Scully, Assistant Director Skinner is expecting you. Go right in."

They nodded to her in one fluid motion of their heads and headed for the door leading to Skinner's inner sanctum. Mulder opened the door. Scully walked in and stopped, waiting the milliseconds it took for Mulder to walk in and close the door behind him. Together they made their way to the two chairs in front of the desk.

Skinner watched them enter and seat themselves, the oneness of their every movement as obvious to him as the fact that they were dressed identically, right down to the white Nike tennis shoes on all four feet. He'd always known of their strange unity, but it struck him now as more solid and outwardly noticeable than before. He wondered if Scully had already told Mulder everything, or if he would be hearing it here and now for the first time as well.

"Agents," he greeted them, coolly keeping his emotional and physical distance.

"Sir," they replied.

"Are we ready to begin?"

Scully nodded in the affirmative.

Skinner buzzed for Kimberly, who entered with her notepad and a fistful of pencils. She took a seat in the far corner of the room, at a small desk which was especially for her. She nodded to her boss that she was ready to go.

The first hour was merely a setup scenario. Both Mulder and Scully filled Skinner in on the details of Mulder's ex-neighbor, Philip Padgett. But then their tales diverged. Mulder explained what he'd done up until the point where he entered his apartment to find Scully laying on the floor in her own blood. He kept his voice monotonistic, giving no glimpse of his own personal feelings over his discovery of what he'd thought at first was a dead Agent Scully. Skinner admired his composure, but admired that of his other agent's even more. Did she always buck up and take everything like a man?

She certainly hadn't last night.

Finally it came time to hear what had happened to Dana Scully. She sat in silence for a moment as Kimberly and the men waited patiently for her to begin. Suddenly she stood, startling everyone.

"Sir, may I be excused for a moment?"

"Of course. Let's all take a fifteen minute break." Skinner rose to his feet as Scully exited with her partner right behind her.

The two walked quickly down the hall and turned the corner, at the end of which lay nothing but a utility closet. Scully suddenly stopped, almost causing Mulder to run over her. She leaned her back against the wall, blowing out a huge breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She looked at Mulder, who studied her face intently.

"I'm fine, Mulder."

He frowned slightly.

"Really. I just needed a break. And the bathroom."

She flashed him a rare smile as she took the few necessary steps to the Ladies' Room. Mulder, too, exhaled loudly as he headed for the Mens' Room.

Minutes later, they met back in the out-of-the-way hall. Dana seemed fine, as she'd said only a short time before, but Fox placed his hand on her shoulder nonetheless. It was just as much for his own reassurance as it was for her. Touching her steadied and calmed him. She turned her determined face towards his.

"Let's go finish this, partner," she said.

He smiled and nodded. Somehow, when she said that word-partner-it held much more meaning than when anyone else used it. For both of them, that single seven-letter word held much more meaning than it ever possibly could for any other living being. That described them to a T. They were partners in everything. Well...almost everything.


	2. Chapter 2

They reentered Skinner's office, where he and his secretary awaited their return. Seating themselves once more in the chairs, the partners were surprised when Skinner spoke.

"Agent Scully, I would like to remind you at this time that this room may be cleared of everyone but you and me if you wish. Your statement can be recorded for later transcription. You may also take your time, and if you need a break, you need only ask."

"I understand, Sir. Everyone can stay," she replied, sitting straight in her chair as if to defy the implication that she couldn't handle relaying her harrowing experience to three people.

And so everyone finally heard what had happened to her, firsthand. Dana told of being alone in Mulder's apartment, waiting for him to return. She told of opening his front door to a man wearing a hood, a man which she described with perfect clarity. He entered the apartment, closing the door behind him. She backed away, completely terrified. She knew who this man was, knew from having read Padgett's book. She knew why he was there, and knew damn well she couldn't stop him.

Not once did her voice falter as she described how the man threw her to the floor, how he reached inside her blouse, how she struggled to free herself from him, though she knew she fought a losing battle. How his fingers dug into her flesh. The intense pain as his hand pierced her skin, as she felt his hand enter her chest cavity. Her mind screamed that such a feat was not possible, even as she felt it happening to her.

Skinner sat in stunned silence. How could she so stoically recount this nightmare? Kimberly, being the professional that she was, gave not one thought to the meaning of what she wrote in shorthand, only to the words themselves, trying to be as precise as possible.

Mulder, on the other hand, was a completely different story altogether. He felt tortured as he listened to her stony voice weave together details which were more horrible than even his imagination had conceived. His heart ached. Hell, his whole gut ached and twisted itself into painful knots as he pictured her fiery red hair splayed out on the floor with that monster towering over her, violating her as he had done. It was almost more than he could stomach, but if she could sit here and tell the story, then he could sit here and listen to it. He could puke his guts out later.

At last Scully finished. She sat for a moment, wracking her brain for any detail she may have missed in her initial narrative, but could think of nothing. Five hours had passed since they'd first entered Skinner's office. Scully had made it through by simply viewing her experience as though it were another of their X-File cases about which she was writing the field report. However, even her iron will had deteriorated, and she found herself to be exhausted, longing for nothing more than the simplicity of her bed.

"Agent Scully, Agent Mulder, I would like to thank you for recalling the details of this case so completely. When Kimberly has finished writing it up, I will ask you both to read through it and make any necessary corrections or additions. Until that time, I am giving you both a leave of absence. Take some time, agents. If I need anything further, you'll be hearing from me. Otherwise, I want you both to rest and recover and stay away from here for a while. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Scully replied. "Thank you, Sir."

Mulder didn't reply at first, too caught up in the dark thoughts which plagued his mind. Scully elbowed him lightly. He snapped to attention.

"Yes, thank you, Sir," Mulder said.

"Agent Mulder, may I have a moment of your time alone, please?" Skinner asked.

Mulder nodded as Kimberly and Dana left the room, wondering what it was his boss wanted.

"Mulder, I want you with her at all times."

"Sir?"

"Don't leave her alone. I mean, unless she absolutely insists. Despite her outward demeanor here today, I'm certain this has affected her greatly. She needs someone with her, someone to be certain she's all right. I think it's obvious who that someone needs to be."

Mulder nodded solemnly. He hadn't needed Skinner's directive to stay with Scully, but he knew that, in a way, the AD was giving him a sort of blessing to do so. It was greatly appreciated.

He left the office and found Scully just outside Kimberly's door. She looked up at him.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we go home now?"

"Sure."

Once more in complete silence, the two agents drove back to Scully's apartment. They entered Number 5 and seated themselves in her living room. Scully chose the large, overstuffed chair, while Mulder leaned back into the sofa.

A good twenty minutes passed before either of them spoke.

"So, what do you think?"

Mulder looked at her questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"As one with a degree in psychology. What happens now? Do I break down and become a mere shadow of the once vibrant and intelligent Special Agent Dr. Dana Katherine Scully? Do I become a weak and vulnerable individual, bearing my innermost soul to some shrink only to have him or her misinterpret everything I say because he or she doesn't know anything about my past and my work? Do I clam up and keep it all inside on the off chance that I can bury this experience with all those others which have affected the very way I live? You tell me, Mulder...what do I do now?"

He studied her. He heard the sarcasm in her voice and knew that she was employing a defense mechanism. He had the feeling that what she really wanted to do was cry again, but was refusing to do so.

"Well, Scully," he said slowly, "you could talk to me. I'm sort of a shrink, too, I guess, but at least with me you have the benefit of prior knowledge regarding your work and what you've experienced."

She stared at the cushion of the chair visible between her legs. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I shouldn't be lashing out at you."

Mulder jumped to his feet, frustrated by this verbal tango they were dancing. "Dammit, Scully, I _want_ you to lash out!"

She looked up at him in surprise, her mouth slightly open.

"You _need_ to! Don't you see that? Come here."

He walked over to her and grabbed her hands, pulling her out of the chair and to her feet.

"Hit me, Scully."

"What?"

"Hit me! Pretend I'm that bastard Padgett. Or that monster who tried to steal your heart."

"Mulder, I can't-"

"Do it, Scully!" Mulder grabbed her shoulders roughly, intent on drawing her anger from her whether she liked it or not. He shook her, but not too hard. "I'm Padgett, Scully. I'm invading your mind, reading your every thought. I'm putting it all down on paper, leading the Heart Thief right to you, right

to your door."

Mulder's heart leapt for joy when he saw the spark return to her blue eyes. He could see the anger welling up within her and knew he was almost there. He placed his hand over her heart, poking his fingers into her flesh. He hated doing it, but he knew it would give her the final push she needed to

let it all go.

And push her it did.

"STOP IT!" she screamed. "LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Her fists pummeled his chest in a blind fury as the anger, the fear, the hatred for Padgett and his character came pouring out of her just as the tears had flowed last night.

"Say it, Scully!"

"DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU, DAMN YOU, I HATE YOU, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?

WHY ME?"

Her screams continued as she beat mercilessly upon him. Bruises began to form on his chest and arms as her fury knew no bounds. She left him for the television set, upon which sat a beautiful crystal clock. She grabbed the clock and threw it against the wall, shattering it into hundreds of tiny

shards. Dana made her way around her entire apartment, grabbing anything which caught her eye and throwing it all onto the floor, against the walls, anywhere she could.

"ARE YOU MAD?" Mulder finally yelled at her as she picked up her glass jewelry box from her bedroom dresser.

"YES, GODDAMMIT, YES!" was her hollered reply, and without thinking, she hurled the jewelry box his way.

Luckily, Mulder ducked in time to avoid being hit, but the box smashed into the wall behind him where it, like so many of her possessions, was destroyed.

Her hair wild about her face, her eyes wide and pupils dilated with the sheer exertion of letting her anger out, Scully stood in the middle of her bedroom with her hands balled into fists, panting heavily.

Mulder just watched her, and was relieved when he saw her face soften, saw her muscles relax, and heard her breathing slow as she calmed.

As if noticing for the first time what she'd done, Scully looked about her in horror at her own destructiveness. Never in her life had she done something like this. "Oh, my God," she breathed, sinking down onto her bed. "What have I done?"

Mulder was instantly at her side, putting his arm around her. She looked about ready to fall over. He paid no heed to the aching of his muscles or his body in general from where she'd beat on him.

"You've done what you needed to do, Scully." he said quietly as she lay her head on his shoulder.

They were sitting directly in front of her full-length mirror. Both turned their faces toward their reflection, which they studied for a good, long while.

They were a perfect fit. Mulder, tall and lanky, with his brown hair and hazel eyes, looked as though he'd been specially molded to fit around Scully, short and petite, with her red hair and bright blue eyes. They smiled at one another in the reflection.

"Thank you, Mulder."

"Anything for you, Scully," he breathed into her ear.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked sheepishly.

"Oh, I've been hurt worse." he smiled as she raised her head from his shoulder.

"I'd like to get some sleep now, if you don't mind."

"Not at all. I'll be out in the living room if you need me."

As he tried to rise to his feet, he was surprised that she held him back.

"No, Mulder," she said, her large eyes imploring him.

He just looked at her, suddenly realizing how much his body did ache. And not only from the bruises.

"Mulder..."

But she didn't need to finish the thought. He knew what she wanted. And he would do whatever it took to help her on this long road which they'd shared for many years, but were closer than ever to sharing permanently.

He lay down on the bed as she settled in next to him. They weren't touching, as this was still a bit awkward for both. Scully knew what Mulder had done to get her to let go of her anger, to get the vile hatred within her out. This man was the most amazing person she'd ever met, bar none.

Without warning, she snuggled into him, laying her arm over his chest, her head following close behind.

"Padgett was right, you know."

Yes, he knew. His left hand came to her head, where it softly stroked her hair, smoothing the strays back to their usual neatness. He couldn't find his voice as her hand traced small circles on his chest. He brought his other arm to rest over her back, rubbing it as a mother might rub her child's back to soothe her in times of distress.

Softly, her words came. "Even after what happened in Antarctica, I wasn't willing or able to admit a belief in what I knew to exist. When a woman can't admit to something tangible that she's seen with her own eyes, how is she supposed to admit to something intangible, something which cannot be

touched, yet feels more real than any solid object you could offer?"

Mulder understood better than she could possibly have imagined.

"Unfortunately, it took the maniacal ravings of a lunatic to open my eyes," she whispered. She raised her head and looked into his face, searching for his response.

Did he love her as much as she loved him?

Mulder fought an internal battle which he'd been fighting his whole life. He struggled to locate his missing voice, struggled to say what he knew he must, what she needed to hear. This was the thing he needed to get out in the open as much as Scully had needed to release her tears and fury. He'd been

longing to say it for ages, but now, when faced with the proper moment, he found it nearly impossible.

He'd never been able to say it. Well, he had once, after the Bermuda Triangle incident, but he'd been delirious, so his confession then had been blamed on his state of mind.

But she deserved it. She deserved that and so much more. He still didn't feel himself worthy of her love, but it was there, and she was giving it freely and willingly. He was who she wanted, God only knew why. For that alone, she deserved to hear it.

"Scully?"

"Mm-hm?"

He opened his mouth and closed it, then opened it again.

"Scully, I-I love you."

He felt surprisingly free. Suddenly, just because he said those words to her, said them to her face in a moment of quiet tenderness, he felt unbelievably light as a feather. He laughed.

It felt good to be free.

She laughed as well, unspeakably delighted with his confession. At long last, those three little words she'd been waiting to hear. And she was hearing them from his mouth.

"I love you, Mulder," she replied simply, as a matter-of-fact statement. It was something they'd always known, but had never spoken of. Simply a reaffirmation of that which they knew already to be truth.

Mulder had found his Truth at last. Yes, it had been "out there." But "out there" had always been right next to him, where Scully had stood for over six years.

"Hold me, Mulder?" she asked, snuggling into him as he enveloped her in his arms. "Forever?"

"Anything for you, Scully." he murmured, burying his face in her hair. "Anything."

THE END


End file.
